Guilty by Association
by ThickerThanLove
Summary: Originally written for the 2003 TMNT Fanbook. Everyone is helping Donnie cope with the aftermath of his horrific visit to the SAINW universe but despite outward appearances, Michelangelo is suffering too.


Guilty by Association

 _TMNT characters are owned by Nickelodeon and were originally created by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird. This story is done strictly for fan entertainment; no infringement intended._

He had never been one to go mope and dope about. Never ever. That was Leo's thing. Raph would go beat something up and Donnie would become eaten by whatever obsession monster lived in his lab. Mikey however, had always prided himself on not falling into that trap. He really let most things roll off his back. Teasing, trauma, natural disaster, politics…whatever it was, it never did any good to dwell on it. All it did was drive you crazy and what good were what-ifs anyway? Took away your peace for the day maybe but not much beyond that.

Plus it drove the rest of your family completely nuts. He had been on the receiving end of a person insistent on playing the 'Shoulda-Woulda-Coulda"-Game. It never ended well.

Thus, the fact that he had been wandering the sewers for so long that he truthfully didn't know how far away from the Lair he was, well, it was a bit frightening. His mind wasn't on that right now though even if it really should have been. His mind had not been able to focus on much of anything the past few days. Oh, he still played his expected role. The youngest turtle knew his siblings would slip into some kind of scary emo-depression if he didn't keep their spirits up. So, he made sure that was fulfilled. He played his pranks, he did his teasing, he pushed Raph a little too far and got smacked upside the head for it.

It was totally worth it when Donnie laughed.

God, of all turtles, Donnie was the last person who deserved the crazy Hell he got sent to! It had taken them a few days to wear him down (one advantage of being the annoying little brother; he could do it for far longer than the others) before he finally confessed to what he had seen and Mikey almost wished he hadn't. Just sitting there, listening to it, had made him sick to his stomach, made Raph rage and Leo pale. Naturally, they had tried to ease the pain of it but watching your family die, even if they weren't technically your family, was horrific. Even with all the battles and stuff that they'd seen, to imagine watching one another…

Mikey shuddered.

 _Maybe I shoulda told him, told him that I understood._

He did. He did understand. He understood on such an intimate level that he despised and loathed it to his very core. He knew what it felt like to watch someone dear to your heart die and to be helpless to stop it. No, to be worse than helpless, to know in the deepest and darkest confines of your soul that not only could you not save them but that you were the reason they were dying. Good intentions be damned, you knew you were to blame and even if the end result was the salvation of a world, it hardly seemed worth that price. It would never be worth that price.

He knew what it felt like to be afraid to close your eyes because the last look of your loved ones were permanently burned onto the insides of your eyelids and no amount of meditation, medication, prayer, incense or street drug would take it away.

 _No! I can't tell him…_

Ducking underneath the overhanging pipe, Mikey made his way through the dips and forgotten rubble of the abandoned subway station to the tunnel that extended beyond it. He'd stumbled upon this place a while ago and it was a great place to lose yourself and he definitely wanted to lose himself. He **needed** to lose himself. After all, he had a role to play in this family. He was the family counselor, he was the heart. It was his job to take the pains of all the others and alleviate it. Even if it cost him a black eye from Raph, a roll of the eyes from Donnie, an exasperated sigh from Leo, a disappointed shake of the head from Master Splinter—

He froze in mid step.

 _Master Splinter…_

 _No!_ He scolded himself, shaking his head back and forth. "Not the same, Mikey. Not the same, not the same, not the same!"

It wasn't. Tripping a bit, he caught himself and wove into a second tunnel, finally leading him out to his destination. An old sewer tunnel that led out to the bay. It was hardly a good view, what with heaps of trash, puddles of oil and probably dead animals here and there (ew, don't think about that!) but from the tunnel itself, if you looked straight ahead, you could see the horizon of the sea. An endless horizon that seemed to stretch and stretch. This was where Mikey could find his center. Not with a flame or breathing or counting but by focusing on the utter vastness of the sea.

Settling and ignoring the light dusting of water that always existed amid this perch, he pulled his book from under his arm.

No comics this time. He didn't want to see them for a long time, if ever again. You'd have thought, what with having literally LIVED a comic book adventures in his own alternate world, that he would have become even more obsessed but, no.

Oh, the Super Turtles had been amazing! Thinking back on it, he had felt an odd comfort with them, what with them being so much like his own brothers. In a sense, they were. It was an alternate world but all alternate worlds branched off of one prime world which meant his Raph and their Gridex were cut from the same cloth, theoretically speaking. You could sure see it with Graviturtle and Leo, right down to the hammy Leader-esque speeches. Then, there'd been Shellectro who totally would have been best buddies with Donnie.

Donnie…

That was the reason he was out here. His job was to make sure Donnie felt better. His job was to make his brother laugh and smile again. Not just once in a while but often and with zest! Earlier that night, they'd all been rocked from their rooms when Donnie cried out, screamed, begged against fate to "save them, save them!" Shell, how long had it been since any of his brothers had screamed out in their sleep? Had to have been years. Even he had tried to stop that ever since he was eleven.

That world though…that horrible future had rocked poor Donnie's heart enough that he awoke in a cold sweat and latched onto Raph like a child clutching a lovey. Leo had rushed over, stroked his head and Master Splinter had rushed in and took his other side, whispering words of comfort.

It had been the sight of Master Splinter that had frozen his steps when he'd approached from the doorframe and stalled his breath in his throat.

Master Splinter…

The Sliver…

He had pushed it aside. He had pushed it down. He'd only focused on the gloriousness of being among super-powered mutants. That was all he'd told his family. That he'd helped a team of Super Hero versions of themselves to defeat a great evil. That was true enough and it was all they needed to know. All he ever wanted to tell them. All he COULD tell them.

How could he tell them the truth? That they had not only defeated but KILLED a version of their own father? That HE had killed Father?

Cut from the same cloth, Sliver was still Master Splinter, still Father.

HAD been Father.

Unwanted tears slid down his face at the thought.

He'd run from the doorway of Donnie's room, suddenly choking on air when his father had looked up at him. All he could see was the Sliver. All he could hear was the Sliver, the way he spoke about wanting his sons by his side, much as Master Splinter did. The way the Super Turtles had lamented his loss, just as they had when he vanished. It was too familiar and seeing his father's face and imagining him being killed, like they'd killed the Sliver. Like HE'D killed the Sliver…he couldn't take it.

He'd heard his brothers call out to him but he'd ignored it. _Get away, get away, get away, get away._ He hadn't even bothered to drop the book he'd been thumbing through when Donnie had called out, hadn't bothered to grab his weapons. He'd just run. He HAD to run. Much as he wanted to rush Donnie and make him laugh and smile, he couldn't. Not right now. He knew if he tried, he would break and then Donnie would have been even sadder and damn it, that couldn't happen…wouldn't happen!

They'd follow and he knew it but he needed to get away. He needed to refocus. He needed to re-center. He needed to become Mikey again! He needed to get back his joking, optimistic self. DONNIE needed him to get it back. His whole family needed him to get it back. He had pushed down the hurt, covered it with joking and shouts about "See? I _am_ a hero!" and all he needed to do was cover it up again. Master Splinter had just…he'd just triggered something and…yeah, just cover it up again. Easy-peasy!

 _Just like when you sent him to his death…_

Heaving a deep sigh, he rubbed his temples, fighting down the tears cutting the corners of his eyes for the second time. Looking down at his open book, he wiped the few tear stains that had escaped away and focused on the well-worn pages. "Guess you and I are in the same position, huh, Lady? You gotta keep your mouth shut 'cause they don't treat traitors all that great and I hafta stay quiet because it's my job to help Donnie. Can't help him if I'm a mess myself." He eyed his hands a moment, curled them into tight fists, so tight that they drew blood and tried to block out that horrible cry…all those horrible cries.

 **We lost him.**

 **How I have longed for my sons at my side.**

 **No…**

 **Bright flash…nothingness…an empty final plea…**

Tears fell, despite his desperate battle against them. Maybe he should have brought a comic book. Or at least something more cheery. Lord of the Rings or something and yet, no, no, this fit. This was right. It hurt because it only drove home what he was.

A murderer.

His idea, his plan and it was his hands that were stained with the blood of his alternate father. Even now, in the darkness of the night, he could see it. The psychological reminder of what he had done and no matter what he did, no matter what he tried, it remained.

It would ALWAYS remain.

Eyes on the words in front of him, he focused but despite his motivation, he found himself revisiting the same passage, over and over. He read it silently, he read it out loud, he read it until his lips bled.

His tears worked pretty well to wash the blood away.

It was hours later when his brothers and Father finally tracked him to his secret spot, finding him doubled over, weeping silently to himself. He did not respond to their inquiries, he did not elaborate on why he had bolted. He only rocked back forth, sobbing. He'd shake his head and asked about 'Donnie. Is Donnie okay?' but he said nothing on himself. It took the genius turtle, still a bit unnerved himself, shoving his way through a stunned and lost Raphael and Leonardo and finally taking his younger brother in a tight embrace to stop the babbling but that gave way to horrible, heart-wrenching sobs. The kind of tears that make you burn in your soul because there is absolutely nothing you can do to ease the hurt.

Nothing.

"Mikey…" Donatello's words were pleading, as his hands shook and he tried, with all his might, to reach his brother, to break through this hysterical asylum. "Come on, little brother, talk to us. Please…please talk to us." His voice caught. "Talk to ME." There was deep desperation to his tone, but not just out of fear. There was a look to his eyes that you couldn't quite place. Like, he had seen this kind of pain before and seeing it on Mikey triggered a deeper paranoia. If what he had told his brothers was any indication, he had plenty of reason for it.

Shaking his head back and forth, Mikey stayed quiet, leaning against his brother as if to separate was to perish. When Master Splinter took a step forward with a gentle "My son…" the youngest turtle gaped, choked on his inhale and cursed, cursed himself, starting shouting 'Murderer' at the top of his lungs, over and over. Jerking back in alarm, Splinter lost his next sentence. Donnie tried to get his younger sibling to calm as Leo and Raph wrapped him in a tight embrace, joining Donnie and essentially sandwiching their sibling in their arms. It was only then that the turtle's shouts shuddered back to voiceless cries.

The foot of the old ninja master reluctantly withdrew. It broke his heart. This was his child and yet, he seemed to only be worsening the situation. It was not something he was used to dealing with. When they had been little, his strong presence had always been welcomed, especially by his youngest. What was different? What had changed? Stepping back, his left foot brushed the abandoned book adorning the tunnel floor. Looking down, the small amount of moonlight was just enough to cast illumination on the tear-stained words, worn by the many numerous times they had been read and re-read and re-read. Frowning, the old ninja master picked it up, his eyes scanning even as his youngest began to recite the words, despite his brothers' attempts to break through to him:

. "Out, damned spot! Out, I say!—One, two. Why, then, 'tis time to do 't. Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! A soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?—Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him…"


End file.
